


i'll be home for christmas & home will be here

by flybbfly



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Mistletoe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-11 00:23:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8945227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flybbfly/pseuds/flybbfly
Summary: Andrew and Neil throw a Christmas party.Queue "It's Always Sunny" theme music.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aulesbian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aulesbian/gifts).



> This is just a couple thousand words of soft gay Christmas fluff because uh it's been a hard year. There is no conflict, it's literally just Christmas-flavored comfort food. 
> 
> Happy holidays, [alvalez](http://alvalez.tumblr.com)! I hope you have a great week & fabulous new year & amazing 2017.

Andrew still doesn't know how he allowed himself to get roped into hosting the Christmas party this year. He's never been much good at hosting parties—his idea of a menu is Jack Daniels and ice cream—and anyway he doesn't actually like anyone, so he doesn't see the point. If it were up to him, he'd spend their holiday time off under six blankets on the couch with those Italian Christmas cookies and panettone and Santa-shaped Lindt chocolate. And, fine, maybe the cats. And Neil, probably. 

But instead, since Neil and Andrew are the ones with a nice big apartment (“It's almost too much space,” Neil keeps saying, and Andrew knows all about that kind of agoraphobia), and since Neil and Andrew are the ones who got married six months ago and haven't seen any of the Foxes except the ones Andrew is blood-related to since then, it's all on them. 

“We want to see your marriage home,” Dan told Neil and Andrew over the phone. On speaker with Neil, since Andrew is still not likely to answer very many people.

Andrew wouldn't have agreed if it weren't for Neil, who gets restless and anxious around this time of year for obvious reasons, who still doesn't feel comfortable spending money on himself and having a permanent location to call home.

But instead here they are. Decorating.

“It's not that bad,” Neil says. 

He has Christmas music going, and his taste lacks any nuance—the playlist features everything from “Jingle Bells” to Gregorian chants to “Santa Baby” and Michael Bublé. He's covered in stray bits of tinsel already, gold and silver catching the light in his hair, and he's wearing an actual Christmas sweater. It's green. Good color for him.

“I didn't say it was bad.” 

It's not: Neil has Christmas lights twisted around his waist, and he's clearly clueless about how to put them up. One of the cats is stretched up against his leg, a paw batting at the lights. It's a funny image. Andrew even considers laughing.

“I've never really done this,” Neil confesses, staring at their tree blankly. It was a last-minute purchase, so it's one of the shittier ones, too tall for either of them to reach the top but ragged, like it was on top of someone's car while they drove through a low-hanging tunnel. “Isn't putting these lights up a fire hazard?”

Andrew unwinds some of the Christmas lights so that Neil can reach the giant box of ornaments he ordered from Amazon. Most of them are pretty classic—red and green and silver orbs, more tinsel, little figurines of the virgin Mary and baby Jesus even though Andrew is pretty sure he and Neil are the least religious people in the entire world—but then there are a few exy ones: a racquet and a goal; a little miniature Kevin on a gold hook, his tattoo a black speck on his face, Santa hat at odds with his fierce expression. 

“He will not like that,” Andrew observes.

“Antagonizing Kevin is basically a tradition by now,” Neil says. 

He still has tinsel in his hair. Andrew reaches for him, and Neil leans forward automatically to kiss him. It's gentle, nothing behind it except that Andrew—well, wanted to. It was the tinsel and the stupid ornament. When Andrew pulls away, Neil is smiling, that goofy surprised look he gets on his face sometimes. Andrew hates him. 

They move on to the kitchen eventually; apparently Neil is going to try his hand at baking, but Andrew is willing to bet his entire bank account that Neil has never even used their oven. 

“Do you even know how to turn it on?”

“No,” Neil says, grinning. “But you can teach me.”

“Does that mean you're going to make me do all the baking?”

“I can mix ingredients together, and you can just—press the buttons.”

As it turns out, Neil is not awful at mixing things together; he manages to make batter for brownies and three different types of cookies. Andrew would be surprised, except that Neil used those mixes that only require added water and an egg or two. Even Neil couldn't fuck that up.

But it is Andrew who has to actually put them in the oven, and afterward Neil is watching him with that stupid fond look he gets sometimes.

“Stop it,” Andrew says. 

“No.”

“I hate you.”

Neil smiles. “Do you want to dance?”

“You're a terrible dancer.”

“How would you know?” Neil says. “We didn't even dance at our wedding.”

Andrew hates him, he really does, but he walks over anyway, takes Neil's hand in one of his and positions his other at Neil's waist. 

“I've never done this before,” Neil says.

Andrew hasn't either. He stares back at Neil, who wraps an arm around Andrew's back—slowly, so Andrew can back away if he needs to—and then starts to sway to the time of whatever sappy Christmas classic is ringing out of his phone.

“I assume this is what you're supposed to do,” Neil says, all sweet-smelling breath against Andrew's face.

Andrew pulls him closer in an effort to not have to look at Neil's stupid face. 

“I haven't done this Christmas stuff myself before,” Neil says. “I mean—a few holiday parties with the team, and obviously a couple in college, but never myself, like this, in my own home.”

Andrew remembers all his Christmases. The ones in high school with Nicky and Aaron weren't awful, and the one in juvie was all right, and one or two with Cass were okay if he could ignore everything that came after Christmas dinner. All the ones after college were fine if boring, some with his team, others with Neil and the Foxes, but Andrew isn't really one for Christmas spirit. If people want to pretend for a day out of every year that they're good, and generous, and kind, then that's fine, but Andrew doesn't feel the need to get involved.

“Me neither,” Andrew says into Neil's neck. “Can I--”

“Yes,” Neil says, and Andrew kisses him, harder this time. Neil lets him, kisses back, keeps himself carefully exactly as far apart as Andrew positioned them. 

The fire alarm goes off. Neil starts to laugh, first right into Andrew's mouth and then, when Andrew backs away, into the space between them.

“Okay,” Neil says, waving a kitchen towel at the smoke detector to dissipate the smoke while Andrew searches for their oven mitt. “So we'll pick up brownies at the store.” He puts the towel down, takes off the stupid apron he's wearing, and checks the fridge. “Do we need anything else?”

“More liquor.”

“We already got enough for--”

“If I am going to put up with you all night, I'll need more.”

Neil laughs again. “Love you too.” He grabs the car keys from their hook and is out the door before Andrew can reply.

*

Nicky comes over early, presumably to check if they've decorated enough.

They haven't, which Andrew expected; what he did not expect is that the decorations Nicky brings are almost tasteful, a lot fewer tacky reindeers and much more silver and gold “adult holiday party” décor than Andrew would've predicted.

After that, people trickle in slowly, mostly former Foxes but also players from their current team. It's the biggest party Andrew has ever willingly attended, certainly the biggest party that's ever occurred in space he thinks of as his, and he wedges himself between Neil and the arm of the couch and decides to just stay there until he craves a cigarette.

Neil's left hand is, as always, resting on his lap, an open invitation to Andrew. Andrew reaches for it and fiddles with the fidget ring Neil wears instead of a wedding band. It's for Andrew, a fact that makes Andrew hate Neil a little bit more every time he sees it; Neil covers it with tape during games, and Andrew hates him for that too. He doesn't know when he became the more restless one in their relationship. It used to be Neil always searching for the exit, but now Neil is capable of sitting still, and so Andrew funnels his restless energy—all of it excess now that he doesn't have to protect anyone anymore—into playing with Neil's ring and carefully avoiding the old scars that surround it.

Dan catches him at it, gives Andrew a knowing smile even though the two of them will never get along. Andrew pretends he doesn't see her and focuses on making the little silver balls move together and then apart in perfect harmony. With his other hand, he mainlines the cocktail Nicky made, some overly sweet combination of peppermint schnapps, chocolate liqueur, and whipped cream vodka that Kevin keeps shooting dirty looks over his own glass of expensive scotch. 

The party goes on. Music. Dim lighting. Renee replaces Neil when Neil goes to get more alcohol out of the freezer, and Andrew hasn't seen her in months, so that's a pleasant enough conversation. Kevin gives Andrew a dirty look when Andrew slips out for a cigarette, and that's almost funny. 

It's well into the night before everyone finally leaves. Most of them hug Neil. Only Nicky tries to hug Andrew, and, because it's Christmas, Andrew gives him about five seconds before shrugging him off.

There's mistletoe above the front door, Andrew notices as he shuts it behind their last guest. He assumes Nicky put it there, because there's no way _he_ went to the store, bought it, and stood on a stool to tack it up. 

Neil hangs back while Andrew locks the door (three locks: doorknob, bolt, chain—old habits and all that), but after it's done, he moves forward. Judging by the flush in his cheeks and his steady steps, Neil is buzzed but not drunk, and his eyes flick up toward the mistletoe.

“Not Nicky's work, then,” Andrew says.

“Nope.” Neil slides up into Andrew's space, gives Andrew ample time to push him away or say no, and then dips his head just enough to kiss him. 

They used to only have one setting when kissing: hot and angry, terrified, trying to find a reason to stay. But as Andrew's anger has, if not dissipated, then softened at least, so it's insidious still but not an all-consuming ball of rage he had to keep stifled just to function day to day; and as Neil has accepted that he's allowed to put down roots with the knowledge that no one will try to tear them out of the ground again; and as they've aged, lived together then apart and now together again, as they've gotten to know different teams and the newer Foxes, as they've made—despite all odds—new friends, they've developed new settings, fallen into less desperate forms of love. 

This kiss is almost a gentle one, but it's Neil, and it's night, and there's no practice in the morning, and so there's bite, too, intention, fingers buried in Andrew's hair. For his part, Andrew pulls Neil closer, a hand on his lower back, another flat against the side of his neck. Neil's mouth is tender. It's hard to remember sometimes, but this is Neil Josten—Neil Abram Josten-Minyard technically, how stupidly sentimental, it looks ridiculous on the back of his jersey (their jerseys—a logistical nightmare)—and he wants Andrew, has wanted Andrew for years, and says he'll want Andrew forever. And that's something. 

And, Andrew thinks, pulling away to lead Neil to their bedroom, there's still that fucking tinsel in his hair.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the Los Campesinos song, "A Doe to a Deer." Highly recommend the EP if you want to listen to some innuendo-filled sad Christmas music.
> 
> Shouts to [defractum](http://defractum.tumblr.com) and [adele-czerny](http://adele-czerny.tumblr.com) for organizing this! 
> 
> Come talk to me on tumblr ([fandom](http://wilsherejack.tumblr.com) | [main](http://osaudade.tumblr.com)). Please leave a comment if you enjoyed or spot a typo!


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